


Last Friday Night

by tuesdaymidnight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Pre-Canon, Sleepovers, Wet Dream, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles are 14—otherwise known as the age of awkward boners and wet dreams.  For Stiles, this means their regular Friday night sleepovers suddenly get a lot more confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnTheTurningAway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheTurningAway/gifts).



> Thank you to coolbreeeze for the quick and dirty beta job and to the lovely mods for bringing back the campy fun of yesteryear.

The first time Stiles had a wet dream, he didn't freak out. Thanks to his dad's work schedule and whiskey schedule, Stiles had a lot of late nights alone with the internet.

He even knew what a blumpkin was. (Gross.)

The first time he had a wet dream while sleeping over at Scott's house, well, that was cause for a freak out.

It wasn't like he could help it. His subconscious did what it wanted to. He was 14! Most of his conscious thought was about sex. Even his thoughts that weren't about sex ended up being about sex. He could turn the Revolutionary War into sex. Battle of Bunker Hill? Come on, that just sounded dirty. Bunker? I hardly know her!

It wouldn't have been so bad but Scott had just traded in his bunk beds for a double, and the idea of coming in his best friend's bed, while said best friend was asleep right next to him, well, after it happened, playing it cool wasn't an option.

He slid out of bed as quietly as he could, took a scalding shower, and got dressed—without underwear, as he had foolishly not thrown a clean pair in his backpack. It was an important life lesson to be sure, when wet dreams were a possibility, always bring along clean boxers.

He couldn't go back to bed. The thought of lying down in the spot of cooling semen was almost worse than the idea of Scott rolling over into it. Oh god, what if Scott rolled over into it? Stiles couldn't be around for that.

So he went downstairs and fully intended to pedal his bike back home at five thirty in the morning. Totally reasonable.

Of course, because Stiles had clearly broken all the mirrors in a previous life, that was right when Mrs. McCall was coming off the night shift. Of course. And he ran right into her. Literally.

“Oh, hey there, Mrs. McCall. Lovely morning isn't it. I thought it was the perfect weather for a bike ride. Yeah, that's it. Great biking weather. So I'll just be--

“It's still dark, Stiles. Are you okay? You looked flushed.”

Stiles darted away from the forehead-feeling hand coming toward him. “Nope! Right as rain. I feel great. Just getting an early start. Best to get cardio in first thing you know.”

He pedaled home like a mad man.

Because Stiles' life couldn't get any more awkward, Scott came over later that day. He actually rang the doorbell instead of walking right in, which meant he thought that something was wrong or that Stiles must be mad at him. The last time he had rung the bell was when he had accidentally broken Stiles' G.I. Joe COBRA Ninja Hovercycle.

“So what was that this morning?” Scott blurted out. “My mom said you were acting funny.”

“She said that?”

“Well, she actually said that you were 'acting weirder than normal, and for Stiles that's saying something'.”

“That sounds like the Mama McCall I know and love,” Stiles said.

“So? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You're a shitty liar. Did I do something?”

Stiles couldn't keep up the lie by omission. He was weak.

“Look, I had a wet dream, okay? A nocturnal emission. I blew my load, shot my wad, fired off a round of white soldiers in my sleep. And I didn't want it to be awkward, though I've clearly made it more awkward, especially after I ran into your mom--”

He heard a throat clearing behind him.

“--and my dad is standing right behind me to become the cherry on top of this sundae of awkward.”

“That was an over-share I didn't need,” the Sheriff muttered. “Do you want to stay for lunch, Scott?”

“Sure,” Scott said.

Then he followed Stiles' dad into the kitchen, leaving Stiles spluttering in the entryway like an idiot.

They didn't talk about it again after that. By all appearances, Scott seemed to think it was no big deal or he knew that it weirded out Stiles too much to talk about. Scott was clearly a ridiculously good friend, so Stiles tried to play it cool. It was no big deal, he came in his best friend's bed. It happened.

But Stiles was still totally freaked out.

He tried to make excuses the next Friday when Scott told—not asked, told—that he was coming over to play video games. Playing video games meant staying up until three in the morning and crashing next to Stiles in his bed. Maybe he could make Scott sleep on the floor. He had an old sleeping bag from a camping trip they took in 7 th grade. But they always shared a bed, and Scott would know exactly why Stiles was insisting on a special arrangement.

Stiles' only real defense was that he had been practicing lucid dreaming ever since the incident. Sure, it was only a week, but it had to help, right? He could avoid having sexy dreams for a night. Nevermind that he got a boner watching the Food Network the other day. He was pretty sure he wasn't attracted to Alton Brown, but his dick had been really excited about banana pudding.

Everything was going fine that Friday. They played video games and ate too many Red Vines. Stiles kept insisting on rematches long after he was tired. It was about four in the morning when Scott finally dropped.

“I'm gonna crash, man,” Scott said, his head nodding sleepily. He barely tossed his controller aside before he was falling back against Stiles' extra pillow.

Well, that ruled out the sleeping bag option. Stiles took a deep breath. It was going to be fine. He was exhausted. He was going to fall asleep and wake up at noon like a normal human being.

But then the next thing Stiles was conscious for was the distinct sensation of a cock rubbing against his ass. As soon as he put two and two together, he sat up with a start. His flailing woke up Scott.

“What?” Scott got out.

"You were—my ass—you—boner--”

“Stiles,” Scott said more firmly.

“You were humping my ass in your sleep!” Stiles slapped his hand over his mouth, hoping his shriek didn't wake up his dad.

“Uh, sorry? I must have dreaming.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, it's—it's fine. Boners happen,” Stiles said, studiously ignoring the fact that he had been hard when it was happening, and that he was still half hard. Unfortunately, thinking about how good it had felt to have a dick rubbing against his ass made his own dick go from half-mast to full.

In his infinite wisdom, he had kicked out of his jeans before crawling under the covers after Scott. And his boxers were doing nothing to hide his interest in the situation.

Of course, Scott noticed.

“This doesn't have to be awkward,” Scott said, eyes on the tent in Stiles' lap.

“What are you saying, Scotty?”

“We could just, you know, take care of it.”

“What do you mean, 'take care of it'?”

“If we both jerk off, then we'll feel better and you can freak out, but at least I'll be able to go back to sleep. Because I, unlike you, can pretend I wasn't just dry humping my best friend in my sleep.”

“I won't freak out. It's just, I've never, uh, done this with anyone else around.”

“You think I have?”

Scott reached into his boxers, groaning a little, presumably with relief. Stiles tried to pretend it didn't make Little Stiles twitch even more.

“So you're just gonna?”

Scott didn't respond so much as he wriggled out of his boxers.

“You can leave the room if you want,” Scott offered.

“No,” Stiles blurted out, feeling his face go hot. Then he asked cautiously, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Scott said hesitantly, as if he wanted to say more.

Stiles chanced a look at Scott's dick in his hand. It didn't look much different from his, which was a nice confirmation. Stiles had seen porn dick, but that wasn't the same as seeing it in person. It was sort of, well, hot, to basically have live action porn happening in his bed, even if it was Scott.

So, Stiles tugged off his own boxers and got to it. He had a bottle of lotion by his bed for such things, so he squirted some on his hand. He almost offered some to Scott, but thought it might be weird. Though jerking off right next to your best friend was probably weird.

“Lotion?” Stiles asked.

“Nah, I'm good.”

It was a relief to get his hand on his dick. He stroked himself like he always did, bringing his left hand down to cup his balls. He tried to stay focused on the task at hand. He tried to think about Lydia Martin, his favorite jerk-off fantasy.

But he just couldn't ignore what was going on right next to him.

He couldn't  _not_ focus on the sound of Scott stroking himself a few feet away and the sound of his quickening breaths. Stiles found himself matching Scott's pace, thinking about what it would be like to have Scott's hand on him instead of his own.

Stiles was so screwed.

He heard Scott's breath hitch, followed by a groan, and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott's cock spurting into his hand. Stiles couldn't think too hard about how hot it was—his sexuality crisis was totally going to happen later—because he was close.

With a few more tugs, Stiles was coming, biting his lip hard so he didn't accidentally call out Scott's name. He stroked himself a few more times and then flopped back, not sure what to make of what had just happened in his head.

“Hey, hand me a Kleenex,” Scott said, interrupting Stiles' potential freak out.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles said, grabbing one for himself and passing Scott the box.

Scott wiped himself off and tossed the crumpled tissue in the direction of Stiles' trash can.

“You're picking that up later,” Stiles said.

“Sure,” Scott said with a yawn.

Then he pulled up his boxers and rolled over, burying his face into Stiles' pillow.

Stiles finished cleaning himself off and sat staring at Scott's prone form. Scott seemed totally okay with what happened, so Stiles tried not to panic. He didn't think he was attracted to Scott specifically, but being that close to another dick had been kind of really hot. He was clearly going to have to expand his porn watching to include some dude-on-dude action—just to see.

Since he couldn't exactly start his exploration into gay country with Scott still in his bed, Stiles laid back down.

But he didn't fall asleep for a long time.


End file.
